Damp
by SnowboundRabbit
Summary: A night at Soubi's morphs into a surprising, embarassing encounter for Ritsuka. Written as a one-shot for the Loveless Kink Meme.


**Damp**

"Ehh, look, he's getting it wet!"

Ritsuka stirred to the sound of a familiar voice chirping overhead and to the sensation of something hot and slick streaming down between his legs. Groggy-headed, with his body still weighed down by sleep, he couldn't quite shove these feelings together in his mind. He stretched himself a little, nestled into the futon beneath him, and simply soaked it all in. Not waking up felt _good._ He could remember, oh-so-vaguely, how tired he'd been when he'd fallen asleep, curled up at Soubi's after an especially harrowing night at home. He could remember clutching the blanket tight around himself and pressing close to Natsuo, who'd been sharing space with him, to keep out the winter cold. And now, with his body relaxed and that warm, damp feeling pooling across his shorts and up over the bottom of his stomach, a feeling that left him so _relieved_ for some reason...he didn't want to move. Shaking off those last few centimeters of sleep sounded like a terrible idea to him.

"He is! Do you think it feels hot? It looks like he's sweating - maybe he's sick."

That was another voice he knew – Natsuo's, and the playful lilt it adopted was enough to tell the sleep-struck boy that he must be talking to Youji, because he only sounded so natural and complete when he was doing just that. So, Youji and Natsuo were talking about him? About him being all wet. Twitching his head to the side, Ritsuka decided that was hardly so strange. It was an odd thing to be feeling, so the pair talking about it was normal, right…?

"Or he's just a _baby._ He's going to ruin the bed…hey, Ritsuka!"

Those last two words were louder, barked right into his ear so that he could feel Youji's lips brushing against his skin. _That_ was enough to kill the drowsiness he'd been clinging to. The hair down his neck jerked to attention right as his back went straight, and Ritsuka found himself gaping, bleary-eyed, at the pair of teens in front of him. They were crouched on their knees, leaning forward with grins that flashed their fangs – and they were staring down between Ritsuka's legs with evident interest. It was only when he'd rubbed his eyes out that he thought to follow their line of sight.

There, down at his thighs, was a wide puddle stretched out between them. It was still growing, right as he watched it leaking from his shorts' drenched legs. Now Ritsuka had no trouble figuring out why he'd been feeling so damp, and his cheeks burned as his brain shifted into gear and supplied the humiliatingly obvious explanation:

"You pissed yourself!"

Youji crowed that answer more enthusiastically than Ritsuka's brain did, but they said, in essence, the same thing. Except that his brain didn't feel the need to sound it out in an obviously mocking tone, and his brain didn't lean forward to cup a hand right across the drenched material of his shorts, forcing the cloth there up against his crotch. In any other situation, that touch alone would have made Ritsuka scramble back, flushed and surprised – but, now, he just gave a throaty whine and cast the dirtiest look he could muster at the Zero pair. He felt muddled, his head swimming between shame and anger, but he could summon up _that_ reaction, at least.  
His hand dipped down to grab at Youji's wrist, and he all but hissed at him, ears pressed low:

"Quit making fun of me! I'm not feeling good…and…" Oh, dear, what was he supposed to add to that? He didn't have anything to throw back at the Zeroes, nothing to justify his behavior or to scold them with. Nothing they'd pay attention to, anyway. "And – I'll clean it up myself, so…"

He knew there was trouble as soon as those words were out. Or, at least, as soon as Youji answered them by glancing right at Natsuo and ignoring him, purring to his Fighter, instead…

"Do you think he knows how to clean up by himself?"

"Probably not. He doesn't look like it, does he?"

"He doesn't even know how to get to the _bathroom_ himself."

"We'll need to help! Help me get him up!"

The duo was on top of Ritsuka before they'd even finished chirruping to one another, wry smiles coming along with warm hands that grasped at his shirt, his hips, and his shoulders, that hefted him to his feet and shoved him across the floor. It might have been okay, if they'd just been supporting him on the way to the bathroom, but instead those deft paws of theirs _explored_. Fingers that had been keeping hold of his side one second ended up across his rear the next, and the pinches that Youji kept giving his soaked thighs weren't helping him walk upright at _all_. By the time they actually forced him through the bathroom door, he was stumbling forward some, listening to his breath come in little pants.

"I said to stop it! I can wash myself, just let me go!"

The black-haired kitty had run out of patience by now. When Natsuo let him loose, he started tossing his shoulders immediately, trying to get free of Youji's touch as well – only to find a hand clasping over his mouth.

"Hey - !"

"Be quiet! If you keep being loud, you're going to wake Soubi up."

Ritsuka's heart sunk low in his chest at that.

"You don't want _him_ to clean you up, do you?" Natsuo was all but giggling, as he pulled a wash-rag out from a drawer and started to wet it in the sink. "He'd probably try and do something perverted. Just let us fix it!"

"There are two of us, anyway. It'll be a lot faster." But, where Natsuo sounded playful, gently amused, Youji's tone was possessive and demanding…just like the fingers that he suddenly slipped between Ritsuka's lips, guaranteeing that the captive boy would stay hushed while his fighter washed him. Cheeks burning, Ritsuka was almost tempted to bite, but…if Soubi woke up and saw…"Hold still."

"Do you do that a lot?" The redheaded Zero didn't seem to notice (or to care) how his partner had silenced the captive boy, as he flashed a sunny smile up at him. There wasn't even any disgust for the task at hand on his face when he dropped to his knees and undid Ritsuka's shorts, pulling the sodden things down around his ankles. The soft briefs beneath them, now clinging and hot, came down at the same time. "Wet the bed?"

"Mm…mmmf!"

What was meant to be a fervent denial came out as a low, stifled sound – first because Youji's fingers were still forcing Ritsuka silent and, second, because Natsuo had begun to clean off his thighs mid-word. And, oh, that felt _good_. The slick feeling sliding off his skin, and then the warm, rough pressure of the cloth – Natsuo held it against him so firmly – and the hot water dribbling down from the apex of his legs…In his addled state, it was almost enough to distract Ritsuka from his shamed, exposed position.

Almost: "I bet he does. We should tell Soubi to put him in diapers when he spends the night, from now on."

The Sacrifice could all but feel Youji smirk at that mocking suggestion. Not least of all because he _could_ feel him purring against one feline ear, could feel the rumble of his chest as he pressed right up close behind him and held him still. Ritsuka was only vaguely aware that holding him like that had become necessary, that he was squirming and shifting against the washrag between his legs. It was hard to pay attention to that, with body heat swelling up behind him and with the two pajama-clad Zeroes watching him like this.

Then Natsuo finished with his thighs, sliding the warm material higher so that it ran across his crotch, and it was hard to pay attention to _anything_. Anything, even the way his hips twitched and rocked himself forward against Natsuo's hand, even the surge of blood that ran through him in all the right directions or the shift of his suddenly hardening member against the Zero's fingers. Because that shouldn't have felt so _good._ The teen's head swam between the pleasure coursing along his skin, the figure pressed behind him, and the dirty, humiliating thought of what he'd done (what he was _doing_)...

Ritsuka moaned aloud when Youji's fingers finally came out of his mouth.

"You – you two need to _stop_. I don't want…"

"Mmm, be quiet." Those were Natsuo's instructions. Still on his knees, practically on eye level with the wet teen's erection, he smiled in a friendly but insistent way, as if reminding him of a rule to a game they were playing. "We've never gotten to do this before…"

"Yeah, and you _like_ it." Somewhere in those words, the washrag had changed hands. Youji had it now and was gripping it across his palm – gripping it into a hold that started at the base of Ritsuka's length and covered most of it, almost to the tip. Simply feeling those digits settled into place against his hardness, sheathed by the soaked cloth, was enough to make Ritsuka bristle. "Bedwetter."

Youji's hand finally began to move, and Ritsuka was lost. The world swam. It tumbled into all details. There was the teen's grip, rougher than he would have expected, knuckling up and down him, driving him to buck against his palm. There was that still sweltering feeling in his head, the vague thought that maybe he _was_ ill. And there was the realization, startlingly exciting, that he could feel the tented front of Youji's pajama bottoms grinding up against his rear with each pump of his wrist, meshed with vague awareness that Natsuo was watched raptly, right in front of them.

Finally, there wasn't anything but his own keening mewls and cries filling the small room, nothing except Youji's grasp going _tight_ in just the right spot, right below his head, and… _oh._

"You're really making a lot of messes this morning."

Natsuo looked far too cheerful about the come that was leaking down both of his cheeks now. The unaffected grin he wore as he stood up, scooping Ritsuka's soiled clothes into one arm, was nearly enough to let mortification slip into the pleasure that was cocooning the Sacrifice for the moment. Instead, though, all the boy had strength for was shifting back to let Youji support him, puffing out weak breaths the whole time. It was only after Natsuo had cleaned his face and slipped from the room that he began to notice the worn, rushed breathing coming from behind him or the wet patch he could feel seeping through the pajamas pressed against him.

Another mess he was responsible for, he thought dimly.

"I'll –" Youji's voice faltered and fumbled into a purr. "I'll go get you one of Soubi's shirts."

"Don't piss on it."

There wasn't anything said about it after.

Ritsuka had slept almost as soon as he was dressed again, curled on the far edge of Soubi's mattress. And when he woke, there had only been Soubi with breakfast and soft concern and predator's smiles coming from the other pair. He'd skulked home with his soiled clothes in a plastic bag, a pair of Natsuo's shorts feeling too tight on his hips, and washed the wet pair in secret the following night. That was all there was. He tried not to think about it. When he washed himself that evening, he tried not to imagine Youji's hand between his legs or Natsuo perched on his knees in front of him.

Two weeks later, he found himself at Soubi's again. The night had drawn on – one A.M. on the clock to his side - and _Wisdom Resurrection_ sat on the television screen in front of him. There wasn't any point to playing, now. The Seven Moons wouldn't give him new information through it. But pretending to be looking had given him an excuse not to go home, to make a late night of it again instead of facing his mother. For once, he'd felt drained enough to take that easy way out. Soubi sat dozing on the couch. He'd been there since dinner and dutifully watched the game, not asking when his Sacrifice was heading home. Ritsuka would have gone, if he had asked.

The boy yawned and stole a glance back at that sleeping figure. That half-curled pose Soubi had adopted looked welcoming. It would be easier to find a blanket and wrap it around the both of them than to try to worm between the Zeroes on their bed at this point. He stood, reaching out to flick the console off in front of him.

Halfway to the apartment's linen closet, he noticed the weight in his bladder. Heavy, pressing – he'd been playing for too long and drinking too much while doing it. It was enough to make him wriggle in place as he pulled the door open and looked for a spare comforter.

Ritsuka pulled the blanket from the top shelf and paced back to Soubi…past the bathroom on his way. Settling beneath the warm cloth, nestling into his Fighter's side, the boy pressed his legs together with a tiny thrill. Maybe he'd hold it till morning.

If not…Soubi could clean him up this time.


End file.
